


Root and Vine

by Akallabeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 19th century French political clubs, Background Relationships, Don't copy to another site, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: Courfeyrac ends a busy day of not studying with a visit to a restaurant Grantaire recommended.





	Root and Vine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oilan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/gifts).

Courfeyrac's preference for breakfasting late put him in good company with most of his friends. Today, it did so in the literal sense, as he entered the Cafe Musain to Grantaire's ringing tones.

"--and so, given the rare opportunity to consume philosophy with a fork, I did. As we all must. Tonight! We shall all traverse the Rue St. Denis and feast on philosophy and the finest fish in the city.”

“I should like nothing better,” Jehan Prouvaire agreed, “but not this night. Nerval's new publication is to be feted at Nodier's, and all hands are needed to laud author and creation.”

“Or share the opium”, Grantaire whispered to Courfeyrac. As it was Grantaire, the whisper carried to the other side of the table, prompting a dramatic sigh from Prouvaire.  
“The classicists invent scurrilous rumors--”  
“You yourself told us that story”, Laigle pointed out.  
“--in a foolish attempt to thwart the progress of Art.”  
“So, Prouvaire will not be joining us for dinner this evening”, Coufeyrac summarized. As much as he loved his friends—and arguing with them—some topics were best avoided before he'd finished his breakfast. Grantaire and Prouvaire discoursing on The State and Meaning of Art was best served with a cigar and the second bottle of wine. It paired especially well with political documents en flambe.  
He continued, “I am curious to try the place, having experience with Grantaire's judgment of food if not of company--”  
At this, Laigle raised his glass to Graintaire, who rose from his seat to make an elaborate bow; the effect was hardly spoiled by Bahorel throwing a piece of bread at Coufeyrac (it, naturally, hit Laigle instead).  
“Is anyone else to join us? Bossuet?”  
“Certainly”, Laigle didn't look up from his attempt to blot the spilled wine off his sleeve with a handkerchief (the letters EJ visible on one corner). “Joly made it quite clear that my absence from his rooms would be greatly desired this evening. Given the lack of any corpses whatsoever on the premises, I can only surmise that it is Aphrodite who drives me from my perch, and installs instead the nymph Musichetta.”

“You don't seem overly upset by this development,” Courfeyrac observed.  
“He's amiable and she's clever. If not heaven, it's certainly a match made somewhere in that general vicinity.” Laigle shrugged. “But if any of you should have space in your nest tonight. Or even this week...”

Bahorel let out a mighty guffaw. “That much of a reconciliation?

“Musichetta, my good man, pouts in equal measure that your Gabrielle laughs. There may be a way to scientifically relate frowns and smiles to 'reconciliations' and 'coalition wars', but unless we get Combeferre looking into the matter, a mystery it must remain. And as his interest in women begins with Locke and ends with Condorcet, I fully expect to hear a report once he's done re-abolishing slavery in the colonies and optimizing electoral systems.”

"Let us speak no more of those fickle nymphs called woman, those angelic demons, those--" Grantaire began. Courfeyrac divined from his tone that 1) things were off again with Irma, and 2) Grantaire was quite likely to make himself more unhappy by continuing this line of thought. Grantaire's particularly long digressions tended to either cheer him up, or make him more despondent, and with practice Courfeyrac could usually tell them apart by the end of the first sentence. Heading this off was the way to go. 

"Indeed, let us speak no more of them. Bahorel, shall you be joining us for these philosophical fish?" 

**  


Courfeyac had a very productive afternoon: no law lectures featured into it. Instead, like many another Parisian student, he enjoyed a few games of billiards, and a stroll through the Luxembourg.

Unlike most of those other Parisian law students, Courfeyrac found profitable the game of billiards he lost, and worthwhile the walk in which he did not greet a single _grisette_. By previous agreement, he'd met up with d'Hupay (a fellow student whose virtues included a radically Rousseaun great-uncle, and a preference for sedition over study) for an introduction to several of his Provençal acquaintances. The young men proved amiable company, and receptive to certain choice remarks on 'children's literacy.' 

After their conversation--and after d'Hupay's cousin had won most of Courfeyrac's discretionary funds for the week--Courfeyrac set out to the Luxembourg to meet with one of Combeferre's acquaintances. M. Regnault had initially bonded with the medical student over the mathematics of planetary orbits, and their friendship had revealed certain shared political sympathies. However, the rigid schedule of the Polytechnic and the long hours of the medical school had lately limited their opportunities to discuss the optimization of terrestrial systems. Thus, Courfeyrac found himself deputized to maintain contact between _Les Amis de l'ABC_ and the polytechniciens.

The late afternoon sun was just turning into evening when Courfeyrac reached his friends' apartment on the Rue Mechain. The portress knew him by sight, and allowed Courfeyrac in without any impertinent inquiries. Upstairs, he found Enjolras pouring over a heavily-annotated copy of Payne's _Rights of Man_. Combeferre--as expected--was still out at lectures. Or dissections. Or some sort medical student business (slightly less odious than law lectures, due to the absence of Blondeau's ilk or any expectation that Courfeyrac attend, if somewhat more odoriferous due to the anatomical specimens). 

"Good evening, my friend. I bring news. And dinner plans. And news of dinner plans."

Enjolras' smile was more beatific than any man closing a book ought to have. But then, that was Enjolras' default expression when encountering a friend.

"You were meeting with the law students from Aix?"

Courfeyrac nodded while setting down his hat, cane, and overcoat, before sprawling (elegantly) on the other chair.

"They're quite keen, and seem to have more friends of a similar bent. D'Hupay favors forming their own club, for a number of very persuasive reasons, but I suggested that you'd be the better person for discussing organizational matters." 

Enjolras nodded. "I'll speak to him. He dines at Rousseau's?"

"Most Fridays and Saturdays."

"And how was Regnault? As bored as you feared?"

"Indeed", Courfeyrac sighed dramatically. "The things I suffer, meeting up with friends' friends who have interesting opinions about theories of government. For my part, I don't think I converted him to Bonapartism in the course of a single walk, so there's that."

"Do you still think Prouvaire or Joly should have gone instead?" Enjolras asked.

"No, you two were right. I do think he'd enjoy Prouvaire's statistical obsession, but if you need someone with copious free time, it's best to pick a law student. Joly's scarcely less busy than Combeferre, and I sometimes wonder how he has time for a mistress besides. On the subject of which, Bossuet would be obliged for use of your spare room tonight."

Enjolras colored slightly. A polite fiction was maintained--for the neighbors, though apparently not for all of their friends--that the second chamber was, in fact, Combeferre's bedroom instead of his book-room.

"He wouldn't tell", Courfeyrac pointed out. "And if anyone's looking askance at intimate friendships, it's not going to be the person who's sharing a considerably smaller space with Joly."

"Joly keeps a mistress," Enjolras pointed out.

"And I keep my friends' secrets. But Bossuet's safe. And he would be obliged for somewhere to sleep tonight." Courfeyrac anticipated the question Enjolras was too polite to ask "My landlord didn't take too kindly to Bahorel's last stay. He didn't figure out _who_ started the dancing--much less the fencing tournament--but overnight guests have been strongly discouraged ever since."

Enjolras sighed.

"At least consider it? Over dinner? Grantaire's found a new place near Les Halles that is supposed to have impressive fish. Stuffed carp or some such. And Grantaire's unequivocal approval is not easy to come by, especially in culinary matters." 

"I do have an evening engagement in that area." Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. "Feuilly got me invited to speak with a group of artisans."

"You've been wanting a second meeting place, outside the Latin Quarter. Why not join us afterward, and take a look at it? With Bossuet and Grantaire, it's unlikely to be an early night." He could see Enjolras wavering between a desire to enjoy his friends' company, and to spend the evening at home reflecting on his interview with the artisans.

"Here", Courfeyrac seized a piece of foolscrap that had fallen out of Enjolras's book and the pencil that lay on the desk. "It's just off the Rue Saint-Denis on Rue de la Chanvrerie. Some cabaret called the Corinthe."

** 

The Corinthe turned out to be a short, unprepossessing building at the head of a labyrinth. 

The 'carpes ho gras' turned out to be every bit as delicious as Grantaire has described. Add in a gruff mustachio'ed landlord, a comically provincial landlady, and two oddly-matched maidservants, and the environment held as much promise for entertainment as the food. 

"So, Prouvaire had just finished telling the story--even acting out the young lady opening the envelope--when I turned to Nerval and told him in all seriousness that he's far too young to offer any lady the commitment of hairless, flying rodents, and that he should stick to writing them love poems instead." 

"And that's when he challenged you to the duel?", Laigle grinned.

Bahorel nodded affirmation. "And our dear Prouvaire unceremoniously declared himself second to both parties, by virtue of being the only person present who was sober enough for it."

"In most matters, sobriety is more of a hindrance than a help--"

Bahorel cut Grantaire off with a dramatically brandished baguette (this time successfully dodged by Laigle).

"As I was saying, Prouvaire declared himself my second, and also Nerval's second, and _then_ he announced that the seconds had unanimously agreed that no physical fight against me would be fair to Nerval, and no poetic fight would be fair to me." The group offered sarcastic cheers at the latter, but Bahorel carried on, "and then he said that the only fair fight was the unexpected, and so our weapons would be cheeses."

"Cheeses?" Courfeyrac asked. "And what did he mean for you to do with them?"

"Just that! He said it was our own fault for trying to start foolish duels, so the fight needed to be as ridiculous as the cause. Well, he phrased it more poetically, something about the balance of emotional stakes and satisfactory resolutions--" 

"Enjolras!"

"Is a non-sequitur and thus neither balanced nor a satisfactory conclusion to the anecdote." Grantaire looked up from his plate to chide Laigle for his outburst, only to discern that the man in question was, in fact, approaching their table. "Ah, the high priest of the ideal, the very cherubim of Ezekiel, that terrible instrument of--"

"Good evening, Grantaire. Bahorel. Bossuet. Courfeyrac." Enjolras took the empty chair next to Laigle, who signaled to the drowsy waitress for another wineglass. Courfeyrac wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't sleep-walking, for all that plates and bottles continued to appear on the table before them. 

"You didn't bring Feuilly?", Courfeyrac asked.

"He has to work tomorrow, and needed to make an early night." 

"I do not have to work tomorrow, and mean to make an early morning", Grantaire announced. Bahorel clinked glasses with him, and they fell into a conversation about Bahorel's on-again mistress, and which of her friends Grantaire had not (yet) offended. 

Enjolras continued, "I did manage to bring another of our friends, though I seem to have lost him to the proprietor and a chemical discussion of tin."

"The effects of acid on tin and iron cookware", Combeferre appeared at the vacant place on the end of the table. "M. Houcheloup had several interesting observations on the subject."

"One of these days, my friend", Courfeyrac shook his head fondly, "we will get you to take a break from study, social theory, and the natural sciences, so you can just enjoy an evening."

"I'm not entirely sure _I_ would enjoy that..." 

"As much as I love to see you, Enjolras, Combeferre", Laigle reinforced this sentiment by passing them the not-yet-empty bottle of wine, "you have distracted our storyteller at a critical moment. I now may never know the resolution to Bahorel's great cheese duel."

"The one with the young writer? Jehan's friend?", Enjolras considered for a moment. "Didn't they just end up eating the cheeses and deciding that Bahorel would introduce him at the fencing school?"

"And here I could have sworn he was building up to an elaborate ruse to ruin one of Prouvaire's doublets, so that he could replace it with a well-fitted waistcoat." Courfeyrac mused.

"If he hasn't done so already, I'm sure Bahorel will thank you for the idea", Laigle added, "but I confess I'm curious how Enjolras heard the end of the story before we did."

"Prouvaire told us", Enjolras simply stated. "He was returning one of Combeferre's books the next day ("Lagrange's _Recherches d'Arithmétique_), and seemed quite pleased with the outcome. He thinks they'll become good friends."

"I suppose that is one way to make an introduction", Laigle conceded. "And it makes a better story than most."

"On the subject of introductions", Courfeyrac continued, "how did you find your new friends?" 

Enjolras glanced thoughtfully at him and Laigle, but allowed that he had a pleasant evening. "They're avid readers", he explained. Two sets of ears perked at this phrasing; Combeferre nodded.

"And... interested in encouraging the next generation?" Laigle inquired. 

Enjolras shrugged. "It's early to tell. But they aren't against it."

"Some expressed interest in continued tutoring", Combeferre added.

There was little more they could say in the unknown environment. Courfeyrac tried to pay attention to the conversation of the other patrons, to the odd remarks dropped by Pere Hucheloup and the staff. It would be a slow, careful processes feeling out the political inclinations of the establishment, determining whether and to what extent they could speak plainly. But, for now, the location and the stuffed carps seemed to have passed Enjolras's first test. 

As the evening finally began to wear down, Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Laigle opted to return to towards the Latin Quarter, while Grantaire and Bahorel announced their intention of meeting some other friends for card-playing. 

They were nearly over the Seine when Laigle swore. "I never did find a roost for the night." He sighed. "And I promised Joly he could have the room to himself. Serves me right for not being more prompt, though I hate to cause him trouble. Do you think bridges are quite comfortable? Or perhaps the law school has an unlocked door. I have slept very well there..."

Courfeyrac was about to suggest sneaking into his place (Laigle was in no mood to start a riot disguised as a dance, so the landlord was unlikely to notice...), when Enjolras spoke up.

"We have space."  


"Really?" Relief flooded Laigle's face. It was quickly chased away by a look of concern such as only under-achieving law students can give to over-achieving medical students. "They aren't making you return to the hospital for an overnight shift, are they? I thought your internship started next term."  


"It hasn't started yet", Combeferre confirmed. "But there's room for you, if you don't want to disturb Joly or get Courfeyrac evicted."  


"Thank you." Laigle threw an arm over Enjolras's shoulder, as he was the closest of the two. "You have saved my word of honor, good Citizens, and I shall be long indebted to you for the favor."  


"Careful", Courfeyrac warned. "You may find yourself organizing the largest private library in the Latin quarter before you're allowed out again."  


"I must protest. It is _not_ the largest private library", Enjolras countered. "It's the largest two private libraries. You needed a week's accommodation, I believe?"

**Author's Note:**

> Approximately 1827/early 1828-ish, several months before Marius stumbles upon the group. Courf was totally playing billiards with future members of the Cougourde d'Aix.


End file.
